


1980 (Illegitimi non carborundum)

by jungle_ride



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-02
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-11-22 14:03:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11381724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jungle_ride/pseuds/jungle_ride
Summary: “You missed our monthly brunch. Fancy standing up a leady Phil, especially one who knows how to use a gun.” Even nearing sixty Peggy has lost none of the ferocity or wit which had made the deep admiration Phil had for her, cement firmly within him.“Sorry.” Phil mumbles genuinely remorseful for despite his current mood Phil can’t bear to lose the manners his mother has always prided herself in installing in him. He should have called, or turned up but his voice had been lost to him, his mind wandering into darker pastures as soon as he’d opened that damned letter.





	1980 (Illegitimi non carborundum)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [crescent_gaia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crescent_gaia/gifts).



> I hope you like this little snippet of a moment and enjoy reading it.

“Agent Coulson there you are.” Peggy says using the title she had (unofficially) given to him ten years prior. Usually it made a sense of pride bloom in his chest, causing him to hold himself just that little bit taller. Whenever she used it, it always reminded him of the young boy he had been. A child full to the brim with idealist ideals, spurred on by the deeds of Captain America and Agent Peggy Carter. The two of them had always been the Adam and Eve of his morals and as such had led to him to stand outside, aged six, in the pouring rain desperately trying to catch a glimpse of the famous Agent Peggy Carter, never imaging that it would lead to an improbable friendship. He caught her eye immediately, the homemade Captain American costume, beacon in an otherwise dull crowd. She had smiles at him, coming over and admiring  the shield in his arm, made from a trash can lid. The paint had begun to bleed together as the rain lashed down causing the colours to streak across the silver but she had look at it and called it magnificent. It had been on that day Peggy had called him agent anew he had always loved to hear her say it. 

Today however, the word ricochets around the gutted out shell he’s become, hollowing him out further. It only severs to remind him just how out of reach that title is, how seemingly undeserving his name is of it.

“You missed our monthly brunch. Fancy standing up a leady Phil, especially one who knows how to use a gun.” Even nearing sixty Peggy has lost none of the ferocity or wit which had made the deep admiration Phil had for her, cement firmly within him.

“Sorry.” Phil mumbles genuinely remorseful. Despite his current mood he can’t bear to lose the manners his mother has always prided herself in installing in him. He should have called, or turned up but his voice had been lost to him, his mind wandering into darker pastures as soon as he’d opened that damned letter.

“Well I suppose I’ll forgive you, just this once.” She smiles, coming to sit beside him on the porch, knocking her shoulder against his softly as she does so.

“Thanks.” Phil says in reply, though he keeps his gaze fixed on the horizon.

“So what are you doing out here by yourself?” Peggy asks. Her voice is gentle and soothing, as if she already knows exactly why he’s here in this bubble of self-imposed solitude, disappointment and self-loathing. Phil shrugs, still avoiding her gaze. Peggy stares at him for a long moment before letting out a deep sigh.

“You know Phil I am well aware that children your age are apt at the silent treatment and full of angst filled mood swings, heaven knowns I experienced a few myself. 1937 was a doozy of a year, gave my poor parents hell.” She chuckles a little, as she relives her own youth in her memory.

There’s a part of Phil that really wants to ask her what exactly she’s remembering. The fan geek he is desperate for more information on the woman who’s been his icon since before he can remember, but that would mean existing from the cocoon of desolation he’s wrapped himself in and besides she’s talking again before he even has the chance.

“And I know sixteen year old boys aren’t great at communication, well men in general, but I had really expected better from you.”

_She’d expected better._

A sardonic puff of air escapes between Phil’s lips as they twist upwards in a grim imitation of a smile. Her words are salt to a gaping wound, one that in reality she still knows nothing about. Phil grasps at the letter he still has in his hand, the envelope crumbling under his grip, Peggy glances down and noticing the familiar emblem embossed on the front narrows her eyes.

“What’s that?” she asks gesturing at the crumpled envelope still engulfed in his fist. When Phil doesn’t answer she frowns, lips pursing together. Phil knows how unfair it is to keep her in the dark, but the shame is so perpetual it keeps him from revealing the truth.

Luckily or perhaps unluckily for him, Peggy is not a woman to be kept in the dark, nor was she one to simply wait. Grab them by the horns was more her style, so it doesn’t surprise him that she simply reaches forward to take the letter from his hand. Phil doesn’t protest, letting it slide it from his grip with ease.

“Honestly all this hoo-ha over a letter, what could possibly be so bad….” Her voice trails off as she reads the words printed. There is a long pause as Peggy reads and re-reads the letter of rejection from S.H.I.E.L.D. Academy.

Phil apparently a sucker for self-punishment steals a glance at Peggy fully expecting to see disappointment etched in her features, only to be met with anger. For one horrifying second he thinks it’s directed at him until she speaks.

“Idiots the lot of them! You’d think after all these years things would have changed, but I guess there will always be a man with a stick stuck where the sun doesn’t shine in charge somewhere.” she exclaims, crumbling the letter into a tight ball and throwing it across the yard.

“They say I’m not suited,” Phil says, the sorrow breaking through into his voice. “That I don’t meet the requirements.” He can barely keep eye contact with her as he speaks. 

“Don’t you dare pay that,” Peggy gestures to the discarded paper with distain, “any mind.”

“But they...”

“ _They_ said the same about me remember. I got a million no’s before I got one yes.” She says voice turning softer as she reaches up and cups his cheek in her hand.

“And so did he.” She adds, pulling out a vintage baseball card from her pocket, the one he’d been searching for. Limited edition. Captain American. She hands it to him, beaming, seeing the elation on his face. Phil makes to take it and hesitates a second.

“But maybe I’m not…” Phil starts, his insecurities suffocating his voice.

“No.” Peggy cuts him off “I won’t listen to nonsense. You are going to make one hell of an agent, and I’ll be dammed if I let _them_ discourage or take it away from you. The word needs Agent Phil Coulson.” She presses the card into his palm, firmly enough to emphasise her meaning but not too hard as to crumple the card.

“Understood young man.” Peggy eyes stare at him with warmth and a deep fondness, Phil still isn’t sure how he earned but he’s eternally grateful for, especially now. 

“Yes Ma’am.” Phil gives a salute, his heart growing lighter in the knowledge he had Agent Carter fighting in his corner. “I won’t let you down.” 


End file.
